


we were in screaming color

by bucky_bunny_teeth (buckybunnyteeth)



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Consent Issues, Dom/sub, Fluff, M/M, Subspace, dom!Oliver (HTGAWM), its nothing bad i promise, see notes at the start, sub!connor walsh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:58:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2459036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybunnyteeth/pseuds/bucky_bunny_teeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Just...” the younger man let out a sigh and rubbed his face against Oliver's hand, “I just … need you.”</p><p>He would have jumped back like he had been burnt if it weren't for Connor's hand circled around his wrist, returning his usually rebuffed touch.</p><p>“I can't help you with anything tonight- I'm tired and I really don’t think-”</p><p>“-not that,” Connor sighed, a small frown forming above his still closed eyes, “I need you. Just you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	we were in screaming color

**Author's Note:**

> Connor is a sub, Oliver finds out in the middle of sex. Connor has control and image issues so he doesn't usually let himself submit (or bottom) but Oliver is different. Connor thinks he might trust Oliver. Oliver becomes his safe haven, the person who can give him what he needs. Warning; Connor is spaced out and doesn't tell Oliver about subspace or being a sub until he slips into it during sex and Oliver figures it out. He stops sex immediately. Connor is 100% consenting but Oliver worries. Please tell me if i missed any triggers.

Oliver doesn't know why he keeps letting the younger man in. Connor Walsh had trouble written all over him, wrapped up along side a decent amount of sex and arrogance. He walks and talks like someone who knows exactly what they look like and what they can do, and looks at others as if he can see right through them.

And besides the obvious access he can provide, Oliver cant see why Connor keeps coming back- to his bed, to his apartment, to him- either. People like Connor, blindingly beautiful and smart and charming people, do not stick around for people like Oliver. 

(and yeah Oliver knows he is handsome, but when his words fumble and his cheeks blush and his god damned traitorous hands shake, people see him for what he is. Lonely. Nerdy. Touch starved.)

But every time that damned storm of a boy that is Connor Walsh knocks on his door, Oliver lets him in. And every time he wakes up alone. 

Some part of him hates that he is letting himself get sucked in again and again. But he also kinda loves the way Connor makes him feel, how passionate he is, how he touches Oliver like he's about to disappear and he wants all he can get before that happens. Being wanted like that isn't something that anyone, pretty or ugly or otherwise, gets very often. Its probably selfish that he wants Connor to keep coming back because of the way he makes him feel. Or it would be, if Oliver didn't get just as much from making Connor feel good. 

Oliver groans, head going a mile a minute when he should be focusing on the work in front of him. He's at work for Christs sake, and all he can think about is his not-relationship with a man who is way out of his league and keeps using him to further his own career. A man who probably didn't even really want Oliver, he just liked the easy access.

He scrubbed a hand down over his face. 

He was in to deep. 

“I'm in too deep.”

Connor had said on numerous occasions he didn't do boyfriends. And that was exactly what Oliver wanted from him.

Oliver had slipped. Somewhere between booty calls and charming smiles he had gotten attached. And he knew that Connor hadn't. That Connor wasn't just seeing Oliver, wasn't struck with the same kind of guilt that he was whenever someone smiled at him too long to be just friendly or flirted with him in the lunch room. Connor didn't want him in the same way Oliver wanted him.

Logical conclusion; he had too end it.

The cons out weighed the pros and Oliver was much too sick of getting his heart broken to live with so many cons. 

But before all of that-

“Anyone want to grab a drink? I'll shout.”

The other people in his office whooped in joy and began to snap closed their laptops and grab their coats. Yeah, he loved the nerds he called co-workers. 

…

Oliver hadn't expected Connor to show up that night, the night when he had finally decided to get over the gorgeous man and was not nearly as drunk as he had hoped to be, his co workers could really put it away-

“Hi.” 

Connor was leaning against the wall outside his apartment looking ruffled and imperfect. His usually immaculate hair was in a disarray of curls, and his clothes (jeans and a Henley) looked like they had been slept in. He didn't look like Connor Walsh.

He looked strung out.

“What's wrong?” Oliver asked, hand reaching out to touch the side of the other man’s face, losing all thoughts of telling him to leave.

Connor leant into his touch and closed his eyes, and that scared Oliver more than the rumpled clothes and the silence. Connor didn't usually humour him, would duck out of the way of anything that could be considered sweet.

“Connor,” Oliver spoke firmly but kept his voice soft, “Tell me what's wrong.”

“Just...” the younger man let out a sigh and rubbed his face against Oliver's hand, “I just … need you.”

He would have jumped back like he had been burnt if it weren't for Connor's hand circled around his wrist, returning his usually rebuffed touch.

“I can't help you with anything tonight- I'm tired and I really don’t think-”

“-not that,” Connor sighed, a small frown forming above his still closed eyes, “I need you. Just you.”

Oliver frowned.

“You mean sex?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Connor … are you drunk?”

Connor opened his eyes just enough to glare at Oliver and roll his eyes.

“Okay, not drunk. Are you okay though?”

Connor made and inpatient noise in his throat and stepped closer to Oliver. His hands came up to hold the open sides of his jacket, and he placed his face where Oliver's throat met his shoulder.

“I. Just. Want. You.”

Oliver swallowed, hand running up and down the other man's back.

“Okay. Come inside.”

Connor let out a content sigh and stepped back, smiling softly at Oliver as he followed him into the apartment.

Oliver stripped off his coat and tie and internally began to freak out. Something was definitely off with Connor, he... it was like he was drunk or sleepy. Oliver couldn't make sense of it. What if he is sick? But why would be come to Oliver? What if he was conning him? What if … what if he honestly just wanted to see Oliver.

He shook his head and stepped into his kitchen, switching the Kettle on and gathering what he would need for tea. We damn well needed a cup f tea to get through this.

Connor was right behind him. He stepped up behind Oliver and wound his arms around the older man's middle, mouth softly kissing the back of his neck. It felt nice, god did it feel nice.

Before Connor had come along (and for some reason stuck around) Oliver had been without an actual relationship of any kind for two years. Two years sustained only by one disastrous one night stand. He was touched starved, and every brush of Connor's lips against his neck felt wonderful.

He let out a long sigh and Connor chuckled.

“Come on,” the younger man whispered into his ear, “Lets go to bed.”

“A-are-” Oliver stopped and swallowed, “Are you sure you're okay? I don’t want to take advantage-”

Connor squeezed his arms around him and chuckled.

“I'm fine, Oliver,” he crooned into the older man's ear, “Why don’t you let me show you exactly how fine I am, huh?”

Connor didn't pull him over to the bed like Oliver usually let him do. He just stood back, cocky smile on his face, and waited for Oliver to make the first move. Something about the change in behavior made Oliver feel taller. That should have been the first clue.

But Oliver just ran his hand softly down Connor's arm and took his hand, pulled him over to the bed and told himself that this would be the last time he got to touch Connor Walsh.

He pushed Connor softly so he was sitting on the corner of the bed, and stepped up close to the younger man, cradling his face in his hands. Connor just looked up at him, face soft and eyes wide, waiting. He looked so much smaller when he wasn't being cocky, when he wasn't grinning or talking deliberately smooth. He looked smaller and he was looking up at Oliver like he had all the answers. Like he would take care of him.

“I don’t know you well enough to know if this kind of weird is usual or not,” Oliver said softly, trailing a hand through Connor's hair, “So I reserve the right to stop at any time. You have to tell me if you don’t want to keep going, okay?”

Connor rolled his eyes so Oliver gripped his jaw tighter and made him look him in the eye.

“Connor, do you understand?”

Connor shivered and whimpered softly in his throat. That should have been his second clue but Oliver was too focused to notice.

“Yes,” Connor breathed, “Yes, I understand.”

“Good.”

Oliver pushed Connor back on the bed and set about stripping him of his clothes. Connor left his hands where they fell and watched Oliver undress him, only moving to help when Oliver's hands fumbled on his belt. 

“You need new glasses.” Connor chuckled.

“Shut up.”

“I'll buy them for you.”

Oliver bit his lip and pretended that that didn't sound sweet to him.

Connor chuckled again, pants and underwear finally off, and lay flatter on the bed with his hands still in the place they had fallen. He smiled goofily up at Oliver, and just waited for him to make the first move.

And Connor, god Connor looked so beautiful all splayed out on his bed. He always looked beautiful, but now was different. Now Connor was letting himself be vulnerable in front of Oliver, for some reason he was letting Oliver take charge. And that stirred something low in Oliver's gut that made him feel ten feet tall.

“What do you want, Connor?”

“Whatever you w-”

“No, I asked what do you want?”

Connor's face lost its cocky grin as a shiver ran through his body again. He was looking up at Oliver again in that way that made him look small.

“I...” he stopped and swallowed, “I just want you. Only you.”

Oliver cradled his face again, this time laying a small kiss to his forehead.

“You have me. But what do you want me to do to you?”

Another shiver and a small whine escaped from the man under him.

“Connor.”

“I-” it came out in half a whine, “-please just, just fuck me.”

Oliver grinned against the other man's forehead. The first time that they had been together Connor had been on top, but the times that came after that didn't go the same way. Connor had seemed torn the first time Oliver had asked to be on top, unwilling to lose that control or unwilling to be vulnerable with someone he barely knew.

“Okay,” Oliver finally said, laying a chaste kiss on the younger man's lips, “I can do that.”

He stepped back to undress and Connor whined but didn't move to follow him. Didn't move a single inch when Oliver left the room to get the lube or when he came back and knelt beside him on the bed. The fact that Connor only moved when Oliver told him to roll over should have been the most screamingly obvious clue.

Oliver took his time with Connor, moving him where he wanted and touching him with as much care as he could. Connor rarely took his time, always in such a hurry to get off and make him feel good too. But he didn't seem to mind now. 

With every movement of Oliver's fingers inside him Connor whined or moaned or begged, body coiling tight before Oliver would kiss the back of his neck and tell him to relax. Connor would and then he would impatiently shift his hips until Oliver stilled them, or plead to be fucked until Oliver stopped his frantic words with a kiss. 

He took his time committing every feeling of the younger man's body to memory.

When Connor was properly stretched (and begging in laboured breathes with his face pressed into the pillow) Oliver gently flipped him over onto his back and guided the younger man to wrap his legs around his middle. He leant down so his face was over Connor's and asked one last time;

“Are you sure you're okay?”

Connor laughed, face flushed and eyes blown, and reached his hands up to lace them in Oliver's hair. Oliver was having none of that though, grabbing Connor's hands and holding them above his head firmly, one of his hands binding Connor's wrists.

He had just wanted him to listen.

Oliver had not been expecting the long, loud, completely wrecked moan that Connor let out. 

Oh.

“Oh, wow.”

Connor keened and pressed his now red face into one of his own arms.

“Hey no,” Oliver stuttered out quickly, “Not a bad oh wow. More like 'that was hot as hell and I would like to know how to do it again' oh wow.”

Connor chuckled and looked back up at Oliver again. Oliver smiled down at him and the delicate, sweet blush replaced the one of embarrassment on Connor's cheeks.

“So, you like it when I-”

Oliver squeezed the younger man's wrists again and caused him to let out another moan, quieter but no less beautiful.

Connor moaned out a string of 'yes yes yes, fuck yes' and rolled his body in a positively sinful way.

“Okay … keep your hands here while I get started, and I'll hold you down again when I start fucking you,” he grinned, “If you're good, that is.”

“I will, I'll be good,” he whined back, in a distinctly un-Connor-ish way, eyes bright and voice quiet.

Oliver couldn't keep from kissing him then.

“I know you will.”

He slipped himself inside the younger man with their lips still joined and got to feel his next moan as well as hear it.

“Good?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Oliver kissed up the side of his neck.

“How about I make it better than good.”

“Yesss-”

Oliver moved slowly, firm slow thrusts, lips attached to the side of Connor throat so he could whisper to him and his blushing face wouldn't be seen. He wasn't going to rush this, not when he knew he was going to miss it so bad.

But Connor was tightening his legs around Oliver begging him, honest to god begging, to go harder, faster, more-

And Oliver was only human.

He picked up the pace, making his thrusts longer and sharper so they hit that place inside Connor that knocked the breath out of him. The younger man rolled his wrists, as if to reach up, but Oliver just growled softly and pressed them more firmly into the mattress. Connor liked that. Really, really, liked that. 

Oliver knew he was going to miss this. Miss the sex definitely, but also how passionate Connor was about it. Oliver was by no means a Virgin, but he had never before been with someone who took so much pleasure from giving pleasure like Connor dose. He was moving against him lazily, keeping pace and looking as graceful as a dancer. His noises were coming in short bursts of varying levels, and he looked almost totally gone with pleasure, but he was still touching Oliver in all the right places, like Oliver's pleasure mattered more than his own. 

Saying Connor was built for this sounded wrong, but he most definitely was a natural. 

But Oliver was definitely going to miss Connor, even if they never had sex at all.

“Please!” Connor gasped out, head thrown back and eyes clenched shut, “Please, please please-”

“Please what?” Oliver kissed into the other man's throat.

“Come. Let me come. Please I need to-”

Oliver frowned. That was quicker than usual. But Oliver wasn't going to hold it against him, not when Connor had proved to be a more than generous lover in the past. Why was he asking though?

“Okay, Connor,” Oliver spoke softly, moving to where he could see his face, “You can come.”

The second the last syllable left his mouth Connor's back arched up, pressing himself as close to Oliver as he possibly could, shuddering and moaning as he came. Oliver's hands left the other man's wrists (own pleasure completely forgotten as Connor made his way through his own). Instead he placed one on his side to keep him still though his shuddering, and the other in his hair. Mostly because Oliver really likes Connor's hair.

With one final shudder Connor fell back to the bed, face blissed out and eyes blurry as he took long, deep breathes. A big dopey smile appeared on his face and Oliver couldn't help but return it.

“You really needed that didn't you?”

Connor didn't say anything back.

No cutting remark or sultry look to be found. He didn't flip Oliver over and take control, he didn't move his hands from over his head even though they must be stiff by now, he didn't even cradle Oliver's face and call him 'dear-heart' like he did when the sex was really insanely good.

“Connor?”

The younger man blinked slowly up at him, still grinning like a goof. 

“This is really weird, Connor.”

Oliver pulled completely away from (and out of) Connor, which made the younger man whine, but not attempt to follow him. He withdrew his hands from Connor, but his face scrunched up like he was in pain, so he quickly put his hand back in the younger man's hair. The content and slightly dopey look came back to his face.

“Connor can you hear me?”

He hummed and turned his face into Oliver hand, nuzzling closer. 

“Okay you can hear me. Are you in pain?”

He got a huff as a reply.

“Alright, not hurt. But...” Oliver stood from the bed, pulling on his sleep pants and ignoring the whine that Connor released, “This isn’t- hasn't happened before. I mean, I don’t know what- you're so out of it-”

(Connor giggled, honest to crap giggled, when Oliver came back and put his and back in his hair)

“-It's like you're drugged, which I damn well hope your aren't because I will not be able to live with myself. It's like you're not even here. Like you are-”

Oliver's heart stopped in his chest and then sped up at triple speed.

“-you're somewhere else.”

His hand unconsciously tightened in Connor's hair and he moaned softly, turning closer to Oliver with a shiver.

“Oh you are an asshole, Connor Walsh.”

About two years ago Oliver had been in a relationship with a person and Ze had taught him a lot about his sexual preferences. He learnt that he liked to be in control, to take care of the person in his bed more than a vanilla relationship would offer. Basically he had learnt that he was a Dom, or liked to be dominant, he was perfectly fine with normal sex, the whole dominant thing usually scared people off so he didn't exactly advertise, and its not exactly what people expect when they see a blush and coke bottle glasses-

Ze had taught Oliver a lot. So he knew that Subspace was a thing. And that Subspace was probably where Connor was right now.

If Connor wasn't completely at his mercy he may have punched him.

“When you are coherent and a consenting adult again,” Oliver spoke firmly down to Connor, “We are going to have a long talk. About feelings. And using words like a functional human being.”

Connor just hummed and shivered again, looking closer and closer to sleep.

“Right. Better … do that.”

Oliver may be pissed at Connor, but that didn't mean he could be a shitty dom right now. After-care was a thing that needed to happen.

With a sigh he moved from the bed, careful to keep a hand on Connor's body as he moved down the bed to get his heaviest quilt and softest blanket. He lay them tightly around the younger man, and after a long moment of hair stroking he managed to get his fluffiest pillow under Connor's head too.

Then came the tricky part. 

Oliver knew that if he left the room he was going to be followed. He had read stories about Dom's who stepped out of the room to get something, only to be followed by a very much down sub who couldn't deal with the separation. From the way Connor responded to touch he probably be in a similar situation. The last thing Oliver wanted was for Connor to hurt himself unknowingly because he couldn't take care of himself at the moment.

Right. Need to be a dom.

“Connor.” Oliver spoke firmly, but not angrily or emotionally, “I need you to stay here while I get some things, okay.”

Connor made no sound, but his face scrunched up.

Withholding a sigh (because Connor could still understand his queues on some level), Oliver leant down so he was face to face with Connor and held his still sleepy gaze.

“You were so good for me Connor. So pretty and so good for me, understand?” He said softly, a hand stroking the younger man's cheek.

Connor made a happy noise and leant closer to Oliver.

“And I need you to keep being good, okay? I need you to stay here for a moment while I get some things.”

Connor whined again.

“It's very important that you stay here, Connor. I won't be happy if you follow me. You have to be good and stay here, okay?”

That seemed to do the trick. Connor didn't seem to want to leave the bed after he said that last part, settling more firmly under the covers.

Satisfied that Connor wasn't going to get up and accidentally hurt himself, Oliver set about getting some water and some snacks for the infuriating man in his bed. And he probably runs, but shut up, he's on edge at the moment.

Connor hasn't moved when he comes back and something deflates in his chest and he can breathe properly. 

He takes a moment, standing in the doorway and looking at the blanket swaddled younger man with something that shouldn't be affection but probably is.

Connor manipulated him into putting him down. But Oliver didn't feel angry (yet) he just wanted to know why, why in the name of god come to him of all people?

With a sigh Oliver moved back on to the bed, arm sneaking around Connor's shoulders so he could coax him into drinking some water. It wasn't hard, the second Oliver asked him to be a good boy he turned to putty in the older man's hands. 

Oliver tried not to think about how much he had missed this, being a dom. Or how much he was going to miss Conner. He probably failed.

Just like Connor was failing his battle against sleep.

It wasn't cute.

Except that is was. It very much was adorable and cute.

“Tomorrow we are going to talk, Connor,” Oliver whispered as he lay down next to the other man, arms wrapping loosely around him, “We have to talk. I cant keep doing this if...”

He left the sentence unfinished. Connor was already asleep anyway.

Tomorrow Oliver was probably going to dump a boyfriend he didn't even have.

And it was completely going to break his heart.

…

Connor knew from the second he woke up that today wasn't going to be easy. His mind was scrappy, his bones felt heavy under his skin, and his palms wouldn't stop itching. 

But because he is Connor fucking Walsh he ignored it and went to class. 

He went to class and had to focus extra hard to understand what Professor Keating was saying. Then he and the others followed her around on a case that looked so unwinnable it made his head ache, but he knew better than to say that out loud. Then he and the group sat around and tried to come up with ways to get the stupid murder weapon hiding dog kissing weirdo out of a triple murder charge. 

He knew he was being to quiet, too subdued with a passive look on his face instead of his usual cocky grin or sneer. Keating gave him one of her long searching looks and seemed to see right through him, leaving him with a firm look that screamed 'Keep it together, Mr Walsh'. He wondered if she could see exactly why he was acting so different, if she could read him like the open book that he had so struggled to destroy his whole life.

The others noticed as well. Wes stopped him in the hall when no one else was around, putting a firm hand on his shoulder (that felt way too good and all too wrong at the same time) and asking if he was okay. Connor just nodded, unable to say anything that wouldn't give something away. Wes had given him a long look and a nod that promised back up if he needed it (not that he deserved it). Connor distantly wondered how long the other man was going to keep pretending to them. A Slytherin in Hufflepuff's clothing.

He missed Oliver.

Laurel noticed as well. She slipped him a chocolate bar while Wes was talking. Connor was going to have to make it up to these two some time.

Michaela unfortunately caught him on the balcony as he was contemplating having a smoke. She snapped at him, told him to get his head in the game, and frowned when he didn't call her a bitch back.

She stepped up close to him and took his temperature with the back of his hand. He must have looked like utter shit if he was making Michaela maternal. 

“I'm...” his mouth spoke without meaning to, and he would probably hate himself later, “He broke … he's the reason I don’t do boyfriends.”

Michaela froze, her face smoothing out and shoulders setting back. She was quiet for a long moment.

“That doesn’t make it okay. Doesn’t make anything okay.” 

“I-”

“We aren't friends, Connor. But I don’t hate you. Much.”

She swept back into the house before he could process what she was saying. Connor definitely could stand to be nicer to these people. They could probably destroy him if they wanted.

Asher realised nothing. Which wasn't new.

They broke up after everyone decided that if they spent any longer in the same room someone would die (probably Asher). Wes was reluctant to let him drive, but in the end couldn't stop him. Connor may be teetering on the edge but he still knew how to get his way.

He pulled up outside his apartment, and he was already half gone. It was terrifying, his thoughts were losing order and his bones felt so god damned heavy.

He knew what he needed. He knew that there were old acquaintances he could call and clubs he could go to. Knew that he could find someone experienced and professional to put him down like he oh so needed.

But he wanted Oliver.

God, he needed Oliver.

He couldn't recall making the decision to go to Oliver's place, but his brain and muscle memory took him there.

Took him to Oliver who looked prettily flushed and had warm hands. He looked so good, and touched so nice, and before Connor could say 'hi' properly all of his well fortified defences went down and he was putty in Oliver's hands. Hell he was half way to sub space (so stupid of him to go so long without it).

And Oliver got him there and it was wonderful and warm and he had been good for Oliver, so so good it made his chest swell, and the bed was big and comfy and his bones finally felt like they fit right under his skin. 

He slept feeling warm and with a man he trusted beside him. He felt right for the first time in a long time. 

And he woke up the same way. The sun was shining in through the window, yellow and soft, shining through Oliver's messy hair. Connor couldn’t help but smile at the man beside him. He felt settled and right, here with Oliver. He could leave being terrified about that until later.

“You awake?”

Oliver's voice sounded nice in the morning. Connor finally managed to focus on Oliver's face, pressed against the pillow, and expression serious. Connor's smile turned into a full on grin.

“Hi.”

“Don't 'Hi' me, Connor Walsh. I'm supposed to be mad at you.”

Connor chuckled.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Mmm … after I have some coffee we'll see.”

Connor laughed again, pressing his face into the pillow so his nose rubbed against Oliver's. Part of him was screaming to pull away, to get out of the domestic situation and back to his lonely cold apartment. To stop now before he hurt Oliver worse than he already had. 

“Just … why didn't you tell me, Connor?”

the younger man puller the blankets tighter across his shoulders and shrugged.

Oliver reached over and laced a hand through his hair, bringing Connor's focus back to him. Not forcing, but pulling just right to make Connor's nerves light up and for a small noise to escape his mouth. 

“Connor. I would like to know why you didn't tell me that … that that was the kind of thing you needed.”

“Why?” Connor asked slipping from Connor's hand and moving to press his face into Oliver's chest, “Why can't you just enjoy it?”

“Connor,” he said sternly, “If you show up at my doorstep again like you did last night, I won't help you.”

A bolt of cold went through Connor's heart.

“It's not healthy Connor. I was … god I was sick to my stomach-”

Connor's fingers dug into Oliver's side.

“-I thought maybe I had taken advantage of you. You were so far gone, it was scary.”

“But-” Connor interrupted, “You still put me down. Still took care of me.”

“I put you down with out knowing that was what I was doing. And I took care of you because I would be a shitty dom if I didn't.”

Connor bit his lip. Oliver had no idea how good of a dom he was.

“Please just answer some questions for me?”

The younger man stayed silent for a long moment, willing his breathing to stay steady. A dog barked, Oliver's neighbours woke up, and a jet flew over all before he said in a forced stead voice-

“Alright.”

Oliver sighed, body losing tension like he had been gearing for a fight.

“Okay. First; how long has it been since you got put down, properly?”

“...months. At least two.”

“Were they not a good dom? Why didn't you go to them, and sooner?”

“I don’t know them.”

“Huh?”

Connor chuckled against the other man's chest.

“I went to a club, Ollie.”

“Oh.”

He could practically feel the older man's blush against his cheek. Dom or not, Oliver was still shy.

“Okay … why come to me though?”

Connor stopped smiling and curled more in on himself.

“Connor?”

“I saw-' he licked his lips, suddenly nervous, “-the box under your bed that first time I was here. I knew you would be able to give me what I needed.”

To his complete surprise Oliver chuckled.

“That's how you knew you could come to me. What I am looking for is the why. I thought you were a law student?”

That forced a laugh out of Conner.

“I...” he said while he still had the courage that that laugh had bought, “...I trust you.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Oliver kissed his hair with a chuckle, and god did it make Connor feel warm.

They lay like that for a long moment, entwined in the heavy blankets while their fingers traced each others skin. It was peaceful and warm, and not once did Connor think about his dark apartment. When Oliver spoke again his voice was firm, stern but not lacking the warmth it had before.

“I know you don’t do boyfriends. And I know we don’t know each other very well. But I cant keep going on like we are.”

“I-”

“Let me finish. Yesterday I was determined to break up with you or what ever-”

Ice went down Connor's spine again.

“-but when I saw you last night, looking they way you did, I realized I'm not ready to give up yet.”

“Good, I-”

“Still not done,” Oliver chuckled moving back so he could fully see Connor's face, “I am willing to keep doing what we do, preferably without the illegal happenings, and start doing scenes, too, but we need ground rules. Is that something you would be interested in?”

Connor went to agree but he hesitated.

“What kind of ground rules.”

“Mainly, no more asking me to hack old ladies emails, and actually using your words. Oh, and no more saying what I want to hear instead of what you think, because that really shits me-”

“-Okay, I get it I have character flaws. What else.”

“...No more seeing other people?”

Oliver said it like a question and it hurt something deep in Connor's chest.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I won't see other people. And you won't either.”

Oliver snorted, “Yeah, that was never going to happen.”

His heart shouldn't have skipped a beat over that. But it did.

“Also, maybe having dinner in actual restaurants sometimes. And you always tell me when you need me to take care of you, in anyway. We can work out a contract or something for all the ...kinky stuff later. But mostly communication is what I think is needed. Is that alright?”

Once Connor got over the fact that Oliver had said 'kinky' with a straight face, he nodded up at the older man. But then he bit his lip.

“What is it?”

Connor took a deep breathe.

“What … what would we be to each other?”

Oliver's face went all soft and he put his face back in Connor's hair like he had been missing.

“Well, how about this; you can be mine and I can be yours.”

Connor couldn't keep the shiver in and Oliver laughed.

“That... that sounds good.”

“Good.”

The silence stretched out for a long moment before Oliver groaned and rolled out of bed.

“We have about twenty minutes to get out the door before one of us gets in trouble with someone's boss. But later we are going to have a longer conversation about consent, and verbal communication.”

Connor chuckled, his whole body feeling light and settled. He sauntered up to Oliver, who had paused at his chest of draws to appreciate the view. He felt his smirk come back as he leant up close to his lovers face.

His lover.

His.

That sounded good.

“Will this talk involve tying me down on your bed?”

Oliver licked his lips.

“It could.”

Connor smiled as he leant up and kissed Oliver, slow and soft like he could let himself now. All thoughts of Professor Keating and her soul draining classes, of his own worries about the commitment that hadn't sunk in yet, or how uncertain the future is, left his mind. Everything but the feeling of Oliver's hands possessively holding his head while they kissed, or how warm he felt pressed against him. Those were the only things that mattered. 

They pulled back and Oliver was smiling like a loon.

“What is it?”

The older man laughed.

“I can't see you right now.”

Connor laughed back.

“Dork.”

“Your dork.”

“Yeah. My dork.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how I got into this Fandom but I love all of the characters. They are all assholes except Wes and Laurel. Anyway, this started from a prompt from someone i know in real life and midnight musings. Title from Out of the Woods by Taylor Swift. Hope people like it.
> 
> (all my fics have been sausage fests lately. I don't know how this happened. Expect ladies soon)
> 
> EDIT; i spelled connor wrong god fucking dammit


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